


lover, will you carry my heart?

by romeoandjulietyouwish



Series: Lis Writes Mighty Nein [19]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Protective Beauregard Lionett, Romance, Temporary Character Death, Yasha Needs a Hug (Critical Role), Yasha-centric (Critical Role), literally so much of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeoandjulietyouwish/pseuds/romeoandjulietyouwish
Summary: Yasha dies and sees and old friend.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha
Series: Lis Writes Mighty Nein [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026874
Comments: 6
Kudos: 112





	lover, will you carry my heart?

Yasha is dead or dying rather. She no longer stands in the frozen city but in a field of wildflowers of all different colors. It stretches on as far as her eye can see until it fades into the white sky above her. Yasha turns slowly in a circle, drinking it all in, and suddenly finds that she is not alone.

She thought she’d see the Stormlord, maybe even Zuala. But instead, she sees Mollymauk. He smiles at her, that same goofy smile, looking exactly as he did on the last day she saw him. 

“Hello there.” He crosses his arms and looks her up and down. “What are you doing here?” 

Yasha just stares at him. She can tell immediately that it’s not Lucien. This tiefling in front of her is too happy, too relaxed, too soft to be the creature inhabiting her friend’s body. As soon as she realizes that, Yasha tackles him into a hug, holding his lithe body to hers. Molly lets out a surprised noise but easily returns the embrace. 

“Is this real?” She asks, not letting him go. 

“You know, I’m not entirely sure,” Molly responds with a light laugh. They hug for a moment longer before Yasha steps back, holding him at arm’s length. “It’s rather complicated, I think. Am I dead?” He asks Yasha. 

“I-I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “You were for a while, but then you weren’t. But you weren’t you, you were Lucien.” 

Molly nods, “See? Complicated?” He sighs and looks around the grey expanse they find themselves in. “Are you dead?” He asks Yasha. She nods. “Hm. I’d have thought the Stormlord would be here. But,” he taps his chin, “maybe us being here together means neither of us is really dead. It does feel rather...impermanent doesn’t it?” 

Yasha nods. She drinks in the sight of her friend breathing and before her and asks, “Molly, will you walk with me? I don’t want to waste any of the time we have together.” 

He smiles and loops his arm through her’s. “Let’s.” They start to walk through the field, but instead of pokey blades of grass under their feet, it just feels like air. 

“Have you been here very long?” Yasha asks.

Molly thinks, “You know, I’m not really sure.” He looks around, “It didn’t look like this before you came here. But I think I heard your voices, all of you. Every once in a while I could hear you somewhere, but you could never hear me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Yasha looks over at him. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there to help fight, not locked up in chains.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Molly smiles at her. “I want you to tell me everything about everyone. How is everyone doing? How long has it been?” 

As Yasha begins to tell him tales of their adventures from the middle of the ocean to the farthest north points of the planet, he listens with a sad smile. When she tells him about her date with Beau and the night the two of them shared, he cheers out loud with an enormous grin. 

She’s nearing the end of the story when she suddenly feels a sharp tug in her chest. She looks down to see a golden light emanating from her chest, swirling up towards her. Her eyes snap back up to Molly’s with panic as she grabs on his arm. He just looks back with a sad smile.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she says.

“I know.” He stands on his toes to kiss her head. “But you have to.” 

She shakes her head, fighting back tears, “Will I ever see you again?” 

“I don’t know. But if there is a way I have trust in you to find it.” 

The light grows stronger. 

“Stay safe for me,” Molly smiles. “And tell everyone that I miss them greatly, even Beau.” 

The light grows so overwhelmingly bright, that it obscures Yasha’s view of Mollymauk. 

Yasha wakes with a gasp and immediately bursts into heaving sobs. There are hands on her, helping her sit up. She hears voices all around her, but none of them matter. She held Molly in her arms and he’s still gone. He was there. He was real. 

There’s a hand on her cheek and that makes her look up. Beau is crouched in front of her with a concerned look on her face. “Yash?” She just shakes her head, unable to form words. Beau just nods, putting her hand on Yasha’s shoulder as she shouts something to the rest of the group. Yasha hadn’t even noticed they’d walked away. “Do you think you can stand?” Yasha nods and lets Beau help her to her feet. The monk immediately puts an arm around her shoulders. 

Tears still pour down Yasha’s cheeks as Beau walks her towards the rest of the group and the shimmering doorway that Yasha recognizes as Caleb’s tower. Yasha keeps her gaze on the ground as she passes the others.

Beau says the command for them to go up and they begin to float up to the floor with Beau, Jester, and Fjord’s rooms. Once Beau closes the door to her room behind them, Yasha feels an immediate sense of relief. Beau moves to stand in front of her, both hands on Yasha’s shoulders as though she might topple over at any moment. Yasha feels as though she might. 

“What do you need?” Beau asks gently. Gently is not a word that Yasha would normally use to describe the monk, but right now Beau is the gentlest she has ever been. Yasha doesn’t say a word, at this point she doesn’t think she can. Beau gives her a long moment to respond and when she doesn’t she asks, “Do you want to be alone?”

A look of panic and fear flashes in Yasha’s eyes and she grips Beau’s wrist. 

“Okay,” Beau says, “I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to take a bath? No offense, but you’re kind of dirty. We both are.” 

That makes Yasha smile a little, though it drops immediately after. She gives Beau a nod and follows Beau into the secondary chamber where a steaming bath already waits. “You can go first,” Beau offers. 

Yasha shakes her head immediately and tugs on Beau’s wrist as she steps towards the bath. Beau frowns up at her, “Are you sure?” Yasha nods, unable to convey that she doesn’t think her arms will have the strength to wash any part of her body. She needs Beau to make sure she doesn’t drown in her own thoughts or the water. 

The two of them begin to undress, Beau helping Yasha’s shaking fingers when she needs to. When both of their clothes are piled in a heap on the floor, Beau slips into the large bath and smiles invitingly up at Yasha. 

The warm water feels heavenly on Yasha’s aching bones. And the company is even better. Without Yasha having to ask, Beau starts to wash her arms and her back with a sweet-smelling soap. She washes away the blood and grime from their day of travel and fighting. Every once in a while, Beau will press a kiss to her shoulders or her arms or her chest and each time it makes Yasha’s heart flutter. 

The feeling of being cared for is something that Yasha is growing accustomed to. Beau’s gentle touches and kisses almost make Yasha want to cry. It’s been a long time since anyone’s ever loved her this much. 

“Still okay?” Beau asks softly when she moves to Yasha’s stomach and her legs. Yasha nods. Before she continues, Beau puts a hand on the back of Yasha’s neck and pulls her down for a gentle kiss. 

Once Beau deems Yasha clean, she asks, “Can I wash your hair?” Yasha gives her a little nod. If she had thought the feeling of Beau’s hands over her whole body was incredible, Beau washing her hair is ethereal. Beau takes more care washing Yasha than either woman has ever spent on themselves. It’s then that Yasha remembers that Beau watched her die today. She probably needs this closeness as much as Yasha does. 

When the suds of soap are all out of her hair, Beau turns Yasha around and presses a light kiss to her lips. Before she can pull away, Yasha hooks her arm around Beau’s waist and pulls her closer, resting their foreheads together. 

“I’m sure I smell terrible,” Beau jokes. “I haven’t got a chance to get clean yet.” 

Yasha pulls back, she wishes she had the strength to repay the favor, to help Beau just like she did. But her bones feel like lead. “I’ll be fast,” Beau promises, kissing Yasha once more before reaching for the soap. 

When the two of them are squeaky clean, Beau helps Yasha out of the bath, wrapping her in a fluffy towel before doing the same to herself. The two of them walk into Beau’s bed chamber. It’s exactly how Yasha remembers, except this time there’s a pile of clothes on the bed for Yasha as well. Not for the first time, Yasha is grateful for how well Caleb can read all of them. After they both change into their soft pajamas, Beau gives Yasha a light shove towards the bed. 

She sits down cross legged facing Beau who walks over to the small vanity and picks up a hairbrush. Beau then climbs onto the bed with her, sitting behind Yasha, and starts to brush Yasha’s hair, starting from the ends and working up to the root to get all the tangles out. Yasha is suddenly reminded once again of Mollymauk. In the early days of being with the circus, he would have days where he couldn’t speak or do much of anything really. Without fail each time it happened, Yasha would make time to brush his hair and style it in the way she knew he liked. He thanked her each time with a kiss on the forehead. 

Yasha doesn’t realize she’s crying until Beau’s small hand touches her shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

She nods, unable to find the words to explain everything she’s feeling. 

Beau kisses her shoulder and resumes her brushing. Once Beau seems to be satisfied with Yasha’s hair, she braids it. It’s a simple braid, but it’ll keep it out of her face for the time being. Beau taps Yasha’s shoulder when she’s done and Yasha turns around to face her. Beau looks at her with so much care and kindness and _love_ that it’s almost hard to look at. 

“Thank you,” Yasha says softly, her voice slightly hoarse from crying.

Beau smiles softly at the sound of her voice, “You okay?” 

“Not really,” she admits. “I, uh, saw Molly. When I died he was there.” 

“Yasha…”

“I know it wasn’t real, but it felt like it was.” Yasha keeps her eyes on her hands, not ready to see the emotion in Beau’s eyes. “I told him about everything that’s happened to us and where we’ve been. He told me to tell everyone that he misses them.” Yasha takes Beau’s hand, the one with the eye on the back, and runs her thumb over its surface. “Maybe he really is still somewhere, he’s not gone.”

“How did he look?” Beau asks. 

“He looked like Molly,” Yasha smiles a little, tears gathering in her eyes again. “He looked like he did the last time I saw him. He said he could hear our voices sometimes, maybe we can bring him back.” 

“Maybe,” Beau agrees. “But we can’t think about that tonight. It’s been a long enough day as is. We can talk to everyone in the morning, how about that?” 

Yasha nods and Beau pulls her into another kiss, longer this time, but still just as soft. With a little nudge, Beau and Yasha move so they can slide under the blankets. Both of them lie on their side facing each other, close but not touching yet. 

It’s Yasha that reaches out first, she pulls Beau towards her by the waist so that they’re both sharing the same pillow. As Beau settles into her side, Yasha lifts her arm and brushes Beau’s hair out of her eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me, you didn’t have to do that.” 

Beau shakes her head, “I love you, Yasha.” 

“I love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!
> 
> Tumblr- @romeoandjulietyouwish


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